


Rush

by r0salynee



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Manipulation, One-Sided Attraction, Sexual Manipulation, Unreliable Narrator, Unreliable POV, mild drug use, non-con elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18723994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0salynee/pseuds/r0salynee
Summary: “Kaz,” Scorpion’s grip on the other man’s arm tightened, pulling him closer, “I need you to trust me for once.”/ / /Playing with another person's trust isn't something the Medic is a stranger to.





	1. Chapter 1

Night time on Mother Base was cold, a stark contrast to the hellish heat of the daytime. Scorpion preferred the cold, he was raised in cities where winter never seemed to end, where wearing layers and layers of clothing was compulsory. He did most of his work over the nighttime hours as well, with the exception of tonight, one of his rare and damn near unheard of nights off from his rounds in the med bay. He, of course, didn’t give himself the break; it was his colleagues who told him he should take it easy for once and practically forced him out the door before he could start any work. He didn’t fight it like he typically would have, the medic figured he would have better use of his time somewhere else, with someone else. Donning a more civilian looking outfit rather than his customary fatigues or hospital scrubs, Scorpion strolled through the near empty upper level of the base, nodding and greeting the sparse night watch guards, his ill-fitting jacket generously shielding him from the chilly breeze. 

It had been weeks since he saw the Boss last, their work driving them apart yet again. Scorpion, however, grew tired of their extended time away. Every part of him ached to see him; the nights alone didn’t cut it, or begin to compare to nights spent the Boss. The medic knew that he had been sent out for a late supply run, leaving his quarters on the command platform unattended. Boss had made it a constant habit to drop in, whether it be Scorpion’s quarters, his office, or an exam room, unannounced, so why not return the favor? 

Rounding the corner up the last flight of stairs, his thoughts strayed momentarily as he observed the sub-commander, casually leaning over the railing of the level above him. Miller shivered against the brisk breeze of the wind, holding a long, metal pipe in his hand, exhaling a puff of smoke. In spite of the time crunch, and perhaps his better judgement, Scorpion stood at the end of the stairway leading to the sub-commander’s quarters, gripping the railing of the stairs on each side with both hands.  
“Didn’t think you smoked,” the medic commented, catching Miller off-guard enough to startle him with a jump.  
The other man looked down the stairway at him; Scorpion noted he wasn’t wearing his usual aviators or yellow scarf. He had never seen him without either before.   
“Don’t do it enough to warrant a scolding from you, I guess,” Miller remarked, bringing the pipe up to his lips.  
“Isn’t much of a scolding,” Scorpion smirked, “I haven’t raised my voice yet.”

“Yet,” the sub-commander smirked back, exhaling another wave of smoke, “Figured you would be working.”  
“Well, I was supposed to be,” Scorpion said, taking a few steps up the stairs, “I was unofficially removed from my shift.”  
Miller laughed at that, “Should have taken my offer for more staff.”  
The conversation was getting too friendly. The medic ignored the indirect malice in the remark.   
“Still not necessary,” Scorpion replied, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jacket.  
A moment of silence passed between them, the sub-commander inhaled another drag from his pipe before he spoke again.  
“Sorry.”  
An apology? From Miller? Now the conversation was getting weird. Scorpion didn’t feel up for an argument with him tonight.  
“Don’t worry about it.”

“Boss won’t be back for a while. That’s my fault,” the sub-commander explained without being asked, “You’re welcome to sulk down there. Or you can join me.”  
Again, he ignored the unintended flirty tone in the other man’s comment. Scorpion shrugged, feeling confident in the fact that this wouldn’t end with them screaming at each other.  
“Sure,” he answered; he wanted to chuckle at the barely hidden surprise on Miller’s face.  
Climbing the stairs to the higher level, Scorpion stood by the sub-commander’s left so the mixture of wind and smoke wouldn’t blow directly in his face. He leaned forward so his arms would be propped against the railing overlooking Mother Base as Miller continued to smoke quietly next to him.  
“What is that thing anyway?”   
“It’s a kiseru, a traditional Japanese smoking pipe,” Miller responded, handing off the long pipe to Scorpion for him to inspect, “Those cigars aren’t exactly my style.”

The medic laughed at that, “I’ll have to agree with you there,” he handed the pipe back to the sub-commander, catching the subtle differences in his features he would have never noticed hiding behind those aviator shades.  
Miller took the pipe back in his hand, shivering against the wind again.  
“Don’t own a jacket?”  
“I’m not outside this late,” Miller replied defensively, taking another drag from his pipe.  
Scorpion scoffed, declining to make another comment. Morpho’s helicopter flew by overhead, gracefully landing a few platforms over. He couldn’t see him directly, but the medic knew the Boss would be sliding the doors of the cockpit open, jumping down onto the platform before calling for any wandering soldiers to help distribute supplies. Soon after, he would casually make his way back to his quarters for a short rest before being sent away on another job.  
“Guess that’s your cue to head out,” the sub-commander said.

“Right,” Scorpion murmured, pushing himself off the railing and making his way back towards the stairwell. He glanced at Miller overlooking the base, obviously freezing in the night time air.  
Something in him must have wanted to be nice to the other man for a change.  
Shrugging the jacket off his shoulders, Scorpion quietly approached him, draping the garment over Miller’s thin frame. He bit back a laugh; the jacket was too big for him, but Miller looked like he was drowning in it. The sub-commander spun around to face him, his free hand catching the collar of the jacket so it wouldn’t fall off him.  
“You don’t have to--”   
“I don’t need it,” Scorpion interrupted, “I like the cold.”   
Miller said nothing, his words caught in his throat. The medic turned to leave, his boots clamouring against the steel stairs.  
“Thank you,” he managed to hear before he got too far away; Miller’s voice low and impossibly quiet.  
“Don’t worry about it.”

/ / /

“How long?”  
The tone of the Boss’ voice, strained and impatient, as Scorpion mouthed along the outline of his hardened cock through the thick fabric of his fatigues, purposefully languid and deliberate.   
“All night, if you’ll have me that long,” the medic replied, lustful and soft.  
The Boss barked out a laugh, the cigar in his hand, newly lit by Scorpion himself when he returned to his quarters, a rare gesture from him, brought gracefully to his lips in a long drag. The ember glowing bright orange just above Scorpion’s line of vision from his position on his knees, like he was lowered in prayer and worship to the man before him.  
“Then stop wasting my time with this shit,” he ordered, “Get to it.”  
A command he had been longing for, the firm hand guiding and instructing him to give his Boss just what he wanted.  
“Yes, sir,” Scorpion whispered, nimble fingers working open the button closure to his fatigues, freeing the Boss’ erection from it’s confines.

The Boss smirked, widening his seated stance to provide himself a better view of the medic’s mouth and tongue licking and swallowing his cock with ease and pure delight, repeating the actions over and over as he took another drag from his cigar.  
“You’ve been craving this, haven’t you?”  
Scorpion hummed in agreement, flashing the other man a look of desperation and need in his eyes, running the flat of his tongue from the base to tip of the Boss’ dick.  
“I missed you, so much,” Scorpion started, unceremoniously cut off by the Boss’ free hand gripping the back of his skull, forcing his mouth back down to fully sheath his erection down his throat.  
Pleased by the sudden choked sound from the medic, the other man barked out another laugh, his grip on his skull tightened in response to the deep, wet feeling around his cock.  
“I didn’t ask you to talk, fuck toy,” the Boss said, amused as he slowly began to thrust himself further inside, “Understand?” 

Scorpion tried his best to make any sort of affirmative sounding response, soon drowned out by his own wanton moans with each deeper plunge of the Boss’ cock down his throat.  
 _God what have you done to me?_  
He wanted to touch himself, to come, to give himself any sort of relief to the violent ministrations of his Boss, but he wouldn’t do so freely. Either a stroke of good will, or the look on his tear stained, drool covered face, must have allowed the steel toe of the Boss’ boot to press down against the medic’s painful erection. Exhaling hard out of his nostrils, Scorpion grabbed at the sides of the Boss’ fatigues, pulling them forward to signal to the other man to speed up his thrusts. An erratic, out of turn action for him in his position, but the Boss had no issue obliging him this one time.   
“That’s more like it, fuck toy,” his voice a growl as he grabbed the back of the medic’s skull with both hands, his cock driving deeper and deeper, more turbulent and brutal than before.

The Boss continued with his savage assault until his movements lost their rhythm, when his pleasure was purely animalistic and frenzied. This was the moment Scorpion looked forward to the most, despite the disappointment that the moment would be over before long; his own pleasure derived from being used, loved in his own sense, by the man worthy of his adoration. His Boss, still fully sheathed down his throat, released himself in thick, hot spurts, deep enough to nearly make Scorpion choke. Instead, Scorpion greedily swallowed each drop, flashing the other man a pleased and thankful look. The Boss grinned darkly, removing his cock from his mouth and returning it to the inside of his fatigues, watching the medic fasten the closure without being told. He ran a hand through the short cut hair of the medic, cupping his cheek and then the bottom of his chin in the same fluid motion, lifting Scorpion’s gaze to meet his.  
“Nice try,” he said, a mixture of amused and annoyed, “But you’re still going on that mission tomorrow.”

Scorpion unintentionally swore under his breath; the hand cupping his chin moved to wrap around his throat, squeezing with enough force to be a warning.  
“You’re such a brat,” the Boss growled.  
“I’m not meaning to be,” Scorpion replied without being told to answer; he quickly locked his jaw shut before the Boss could be any more upset with him.  
A third drag from the cigar, “Are you disobeying me?”  
The medic shook his head furiously, avoiding the cold, angry gaze from the Boss’ lone eye.  
“Miles.”  
His name never sounded so beautiful coming out of someone else’s mouth.  
“We’ve planned for this,” the Boss continued, loosening his hold around his neck, bringing it up to caress the medic’s cheek, “I can’t do this without you, I need you on this.”  
 **I need you.**  
The words shot straight to the pit in his stomach, down to the pooling heat in his groin. Scorpion brought his own hand up to where the Boss had his on his cheek, his palm covering it to keep his warm touch linger longer.  
“I won’t fail you, Jack.”  
The Boss grinned, pulling the medic towards his lips to capture in a heated, bruising kiss.  
“I know you won’t.”


	2. Chapter 2

Guard duty for the sub-commander was not something Scorpion would have volunteered anyone, let alone himself, to do. Especially when “guard duty” usually meant standing around waiting for a negotiated business dealing to come to a mild conclusion. Spanish was not a language the medic spoke fluently, or even casually, despite his number of years in countries where the locals spoke only their native tongue. He was able to speak four languages, including English, fluently by the time he was 12 years old. Sub-Commander Miller on the other hand? He spoke Spanish like it was his first language; Scorpion almost had to admit he was a little impressed. He would be more intrigued if he didn’t know that the conversation between the sub-commander and the arms dealer wasn’t largely Miller kissing his ass.

The mission was a simple task, one that Scorpion and the Boss accomplished numerous times over in the early MSF days: distract the head of the small organization as if it was a typical deal, nothing too extravagant being bought or sold, while another group of their own MSF guys went in and traded, the Boss would go in and take whatever real weapons of value they did have. Fulton the goods back to Motherbase, sell them back to the highest bidder, win-win, everyone gets to go home for dinner. Scorpion’s job was to make sure that nothing happened if the business deal went south before the trade; if it did, kill whoever and get himself and the sub-commander out, reconvene with the Boss at another location. As far as the mission was going, everything was so far so good, smooth sailing as far as he could tell, he was just bored out of his mind standing around. His usual field gear felt heavier than usual, the black face cover shielding his nose and mouth was a nuisance, and he was pretty sure his hand was falling asleep resting on the butt of his gun. The medic thought he’d have a headache by now listening to Miller speak rapidly in another language and fake laugh at some of the comments from the head dealer in the metal box of an office, but it was the only thing keeping his focus.

The deal was slowly coming to a conclusion, Miller worked all his tricks and charms and whatever else he could have promised the dealer with the relative ease of a professional doing this type of work for decades. Scorpion let himself relax a bit, proud that the plan he had a hand in organizing was sure to be a success.   
At least, that’s what was supposed to happen.  
The black rotary phone on the dealer’s desk rang loudly, startling the medic enough to snap him back into attention. The dealer scoffed at its direction, making a motion and comment to Miller to allow him to answer it, which the sub-commander obliged politely. The voice on the other end of the phone was shouting; the falling expression on Miller’s face told Scorpion that it was not a good sign. The voice said the only word that the medic was more than familiar with.  
“Intruso.” Intruder.  
The head dealer’s eyes burned with rage as he slammed the phone back on the receiver.  
“Fuck,” Scorpion spat, muffled behind his face cover, raising his gun to point at the dealer as he reached for something under his desk.   
In a fluid motion, the dealer put his two hands up in a defensive stance, no hidden gun or weapon in his hands when he brought them up.

“Miller,” the medic barked, eyes and gun still on the dealer as he cocked his head to the side to motion for the sub-commander to get behind him, which he followed without hesitation.  
“You’re a dead man, mutt,” the dealer rasped, glaring at the sub-commander’s figure obscured by the frame of the medic.  
“Oh wonderful, you do speak English,” Scorpion replied before Miller could, “Tell us another way out and I may not put a bullet in you.”  
“Fuck you, Kraut.”   
“Normally I’d take offense. Now I’ll ask again, tell us another way or I could just use you as a meat shield.”   
“There’s only one door, Doc, we’d be better off with the meat shield plan,” Miller interjected.   
The dealer made an apparent obscene comment to Miller in Spanish before turning his attention back to Scorpion, “I ain’t going anywhere with you.”  
“You seem to forget who has a gun pointed in whose face--” 

The medic stopped short, noticing the slight shift in the dealer’s eyes to something behind them; Scorpion took a moment to recall the layout of the encampment and the metal box office. The office itself was nothing impressive or expensive on the outside, one door lead inside where the dealer’s desk, a safe, and other personal memorabilia occupied the space, the front wall had one small window, not large enough for a person to crawl in or out of, but large enough to open for ventilation. Possibly large enough for a head and a gun.  
 _He put his hands under the desk. A silent alarm to alert someone nearby._  
Scorpion watched the dealers eyes dart again to the window and back towards them, towards Miller.  
Forcefully, and maybe too forcefully than he would have intended, the medic knocked the sub-commander down to the ground, moving across his left side to shield him from view of the window. In a steady motion, he discharged one shot towards the glass panel, where the face of one of the dealer’s men peaked through, exploding in a burst of red and shattered fragments of the window. The head dealer shot up out of his chair, attempting to make a sprint towards the door; Scorpion pivoted back around towards behind the desk, firing another shot that hit the other man in back. His body toppled face first into the smooth metal surface of the floor, blood pooled out from the wound. Miller collected himself, readjusting his aviators before observing the corpse of the dealer on the opposite end of the room.  
“Shit,” the sub-commander whispered, partially in awe.

Scorpion holstered his weapon, “C’mon, help me barricade off this door for when the rest of his people come running--”  
He took one staggered step forward before hunching over with an unknown pain.  
“Miles!”   
Miller stumbled towards him, his smaller frame barely catching the medic before he went down on the ground, clenching his jaw to bite back a pained groan. Scorpion’s hand clenched down around his stomach; he pulled it away momentarily, observing a crimson soaked stain on his glove and visible fingers.  
“Oh shit,” the sub-commander said softly.  
 _The guy in the window. The glass shattered before you fired your gun. He shot you while you protected Miller._  
“Well that’s not good,” Scorpion commented plainly.

/ / / 

“I’m not doing that,” Miller spat aggressively.   
The two of them had taken cover behind the overturned desk of the now dead head dealer, four of his men armed to the nines blocked the only exit out of the small, encased office. Scorpion leaned his head back against the underside of a wooden desk drawer, groaning in a mixture of pain and aggravation. It had been a few minutes since the other men’s arrival, one part calling for a ceasefire, the other other part dealing a negotiation, mainly instructed by Scorpion while Miller translated.   
“Now is really not the time to be stupid,” the medic said, pressing his hand down harder on his wound.  
“I’M being stupid? I’m not the one bleeding out claiming that they can take out four guys alone,” the sub-commander argued, “And you just think they’re going to let me walk out of here?”   
“They want the guy who killed their boss,” the medic replied, “And assuming they aren’t men of their word, then you know enough CQC to disarm someone and make a run for it.”  
Miller shook his head, “No, I’m not doing that.”

“Miller,” Scorpion grasped the other man’s forearm with his free hand, fighting back the dizziness and fuzziness of his vision, “I’m not arguing with you, I’m telling you.”  
“I don’t care what you’re telling me, I’m not leaving you--”  
“Kaz,” Scorpion’s grip on the other man’s arm tightened, pulling him closer, “I need you to trust me for once.”   
Taken aback by being called his first name by the medic, Miller blinked a couple times, sighing heavily, “Fine, fine, fuck it.”  
His hold relaxed as he struggled to hide the labored breathing every time he spoke, “I’ll be fine, alright? Tell them--”   
The medic’s instructions were stopped short by the barrage of gunfire and screams just outside the door, followed quickly by silence and the sound of heavy boots storming the office.  
“Clear! Commander? Chief? Where are you?”   
“Gorilla!”  
Miller shot up from behind the cover of the desk, startling the other medic.  
 _I’ve never been so happy to hear that Russian’s voice in my life._  
“Commander Miller! Do not jump up from desk like that! I could have shot you--”  
“Gorilla, get over here! Now!”   
The Russian casually made his way towards the back end of the overturned desk, “Commander, no need to be so frantic-- Oh, говно́! Chief!” 

The other medic rushed immediately to his side, shouting something in a panicked tone Scorpion was unable to make out; Scorpion’s hand still latched to Miller’s arm even as Gorilla lifted him over his shoulder outside the metal boxed office into the helicopter cockpit. His vision continuously blurry and fading, barely able to keep track of everything happening around him. He felt the helicopter take off, saw Gorilla remove his fatigues to inspect the wound better, a quick flash of the Boss next to him saying something he wasn’t able to understand either. He felt Gorilla’s massive hand press back down on the gunshot wound, momentarily jolting him back into consciousness.  
“Commander Miller, keep him talking, keep him awake, do not let him close his eyes!”   
The Russian disappeared from the medic’s line of view, his attention shifted to his right side where Miller sat crouched next to him.  
“Told you I’d be fine,” Scorpion said meekly; Miller couldn’t help but laugh at that.  
“Gorilla said you’re too stubborn to die, so prove him right, okay?”


	3. Chapter 3

“God damn it, Alligator, stop fucking around!”  
Scorpion’s eyes slowly cracked open, wincing at the harsh halogen lights of the med bay. He let out a soft groan, too quiet for his staff to hear right away.  
_How long have I been out?_  
“Hawk?”  
The cot creaked under his weight as he untangled his arm from the wound up IV stuck in his left arm.  
“Chief needs to rest and you think it’s funny to dick around and--!”  
“Hawk,” Scorpion rasped, this time loud enough to catch the other medic’s attention.  
“Holy shit,” Hawk gasped, visibly jumping in surprise, which elicited a chuckle from Scorpion.  
“Hi,” he said, all too casually, judging by the annoyed look on Hawk’s face.  
“You get shot, nearly bleed out, and all you got for me is ‘hi’?”  
“And I’m also sorry and thank you for not letting me bleed to death?”  
Hawk huffed, extending his hand out to the head medic, “Throw in ‘and I’m happy you remember my blood type for a transfusion because Gorilla didn’t’ and I’ll call it even.”  
Scorpion chuckled, clasping his hand with Hawk’s, “Deal.” 

“You’ve only been out a day, if you were wondering that too,” Hawk said without being asked, “That shot wasn’t exactly clean, so you’ve got yourself one nasty scar, but the bullet’s outta you at least.”  
Scorpion lifted the sheet covering his half dressed form, glancing over the bandages hiding the four inch scar across his stomach.  
“So swimsuit season is out of the question then, ja?”  
Hawk rolled his eyes, ignoring the joke, “And, Commander Miller has practically been pacing outside for the last 24 hours.”  
The head medic shot him a look, “Oh.”  
Hawk hesitated for a moment, “I told him I wouldn’t let him see you until you were, you know, conscious. I know you two don’t exactly have the best working relationship.”  
“Neither did we, in the beginning.”  
“That was different,” the other medic chuckled, “And I recall being a much bigger asshole to you than you were to me.”

Scorpion’s expression softened, “Things change, Hawk.”  
Hawk opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but hesitated again.  
“You can send him in.”  
“Right,” the other medic replied quickly, turning on his heel to leave the room and fetch the sub-commander.  
_Not exactly subtle, are you Hawk? ___  
Scorpion repositioned himself so he sat upright in the cot as Hawk returned with the sub-commander, wordlessly letting him into the private room and shutting the door behind Miller. The sub-commander looked like he hadn’t slept the whole day he had been in the med bay, again without his usual aviator sunglasses and his jacket and scarf slung over one arm.  
He took a small step towards him, “Hey.”  
“Hey,” Scorpion replied back, noting the worried expression on the sub-commander’s face, “How are you feeling?”  
Miller scoffed a laugh, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

“I’ve been shot before, you know,” Scorpion said in almost joking tone, “I don’t think you’ve had a mission turn out like that before.”   
“No,” he admitted, “Definitely not like that.”  
The medic shifted his position in the cot, leaving a space open at the foot of the bed, “You wanna sit down?”  
Miller accepted the invitation immediately, forcing himself to relax as he approached the cot and releasing a shaky breath.  
“Still bothered by it?”  
“Which part? Nearly getting shot or getting my ass saved by someone I thought hated me this whole time,” the sub-commander added nervously.  
Scorpion rose his eyebrow, but said nothing.  
“Look, I guess I’m just trying to say thank you, and doing a real bad job of it,” Miller said, “And I know we haven’t exactly been friendly, well, ever, but I really owe you one.”  
“Miller, it’s really nothing,” Scorpion replied grinning, reaching for his arm and placing his hand on his wrist, “What’re you coming in here so sullen for?” 

The sub-commander flashed him a look, a faint pink flush spreading across his cheeks.  
“Oh to hell with it.”  
Scorpion gave him a quizzical glance, whatever inquiry was forming on the tip of his tongue was interrupted by Miller crashing his lips against his in a desperate kiss.  
“Shit,” Miller swore, pulling away from the kiss as quickly as he could, “God, that was stupid, I’m sorry, I’m just going to go.”  
A sharp grasp on his wrist pulled him back, meeting with his lips with intended passion and a firm hand tangled in the curl of golden locks behind his head. Miller moaned involuntarily, allowing the medic to slip his tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss with added furosity. Scorpion’s hands released their grip on his wrist and the back of his head, opting instead to snake them under the sub-commander’s black undershirt in an attempt to lift the article of clothing off his torso.  
“Wait,” Miller murmured, gasping between each touch against his skin and kiss pressed on his mouth trying to silence him, “Wait, wait, wait.” 

“Why?”   
Scorpion’s voice was impossibly low, husky and deep with want; the tone knowingly sent a shiver down the sub-commander’s spine and shot straight to his groin, a stirring the medic felt directly in his lap.  
“I-- I just,” Miller stammered, trying to squirm out of the medic’s grasp, biting back another moan as Scorpion’s mouth latched onto the curve of his neck. “Just-- not here-- ha-- not now.”  
“Then when?”  
His breath hot against Miller’s tanned skin, tongue tasting the salty sweat forming on the surface.  
“Holy fuck,” the sub-commander groaned, “Are you serious?”  
“Are you?”  
He was staring at him now, an intense, serious stare that he was famous for.  
“Or are you just playing hard to get? After getting me all riled up,” Scorpion added, his tone half joking, hands moving away from his torso and down to the waistband of his pants. 

“Miles,” Miller whined, vainly attempting to bat the medic’s hands away, “Not here.”  
“You’ve said that, but not given me an explanation,” the medic teased, “What? Too good to fuck in a hospital bed?”  
The sub-commander let out a laugh, “Oh? You’re going to fuck me with this stuck in your arm?”  
He tugged at the IV of fluid, flashing a cocky smile.  
“Like that’s a challenge,” Scorpion retorted, fingers working to undo the button closure of Miller’s fatigues.  
“And your colleagues an unlocked door away,” Miller continued, involuntarily jerking his hips against the feeling of the medic’s hands.  
“Then don’t be too loud,” the medic added, visibly irritated when Miller managed to force his hands off him.  
“Then come to my quarters,” Miller blurted, his cheeks a bright pink now, “No distractions. No interruptions. You can do whatever you want there.” 

“Oh,” Scorpion shot him a wolfish grin, “You don’t want me to do whatever I want.”  
“When are you being released then?”  
Miller averted his gaze, trying and failing to hide how embarrassed he was. The medic took one of Miller’s hands in his, kissing his palm then his knuckles.  
“Tomorrow,” he answered.  
“That soon?”  
“Oh, Hawk will try to make me take another day, but I won’t let him,” Scorpion said, smirking.  
“Christ, you are a workaholic,” Miller commented.  
Scorpion purposefully ignored him, “Tomorrow then.”  
His breath hitched in his throat for a moment, again failing to hide the hint of embarrassment and bewilderment in his eyes before he finally answered with a definitive confirmation by nodding his head.  
_He’s almost cute flustered like this._  
“I look forward to it then.” 

__/ / /_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ollies out window* see you guys in like a week for an update hopefully


	4. Chapter 4

Unsurprisingly, Hawk was irritated, to say the least, at the sight of Scorpion dressing and preparing himself for the night shift of work.  
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he started, a deep scowl etched into his facial features, “Take a fuckin’ day, bierstein.”  
“Wow, you are mad, you haven’t called me that in nearly three years,” Scorpion commented smiling.  
“You got shot, asshole. I’m sure we can manage another day with you out of the office,” Hawk grumbled, grabbing at the back of the chief medic’s shirt collar and pulling him towards the door by it.  
Scorpion let out a laugh, exaggerating his movements as Hawk pushed him towards the exit to the main platform; the other head medic, however, was not amused by this.  
“God, can you be serious for once?”  
Now Hawk was visibly and legitimately angry with him. Scorpion knew that tone he was taking with him better than anyone else in the med bay, save for maybe Gorilla.  
“I am being serious,” Scorpion added, wiggling himself out of the weak grip the other medic had on the back of his shirt, “What’s up with you lately?”

The chief medic clapped his hands on Hawk’s shoulders; a warm and friendly gesture shared between the two of them, but Scorpion knew that it held more significance to Hawk than he would admit. The faintest color of red appeared on Hawk’s dark cheeks.  
 _So unbelievably predictable._  
The veteran medic let out an annoyed huff, “Nothing is up with me, thanks. You’re the one who is going to send me to an early grave.”   
“No, your high blood pressure is what will send you to an early grave,” Scorpion corrected; Hawk shrugged off one of his hands from his shoulder.  
“Take a damn day,” Hawk repeated, softer and with less profanity, “As your self-appointed best friend on this rig, listen to me for once, and take the damn day.”  
Even Scorpion’s inner voice let out a groan.

He threw up his hands in defeat, “Alright, alright, fine, you’ve won.”  
The other medic looked surprised for half a second; Scorpion never gave up that easily. Casually, Scorpion made his way back towards his room in the med bay, only stopping when Hawk loudly cleared his throat.  
“Day off in your own quarters, thanks.”  
The chief audibly sighed, turning on his heel and heading back towards the main entrance, “You know if people didn’t know better, they’d think you were my boss.”  
Hawk flipped him off with a gloved hand.  
 _You wish._  
“Bye Hawk,” Scorpion called out cheerfully, catching the door before it slammed behind him.  
“Bye Chief, don’t come back until tomorrow.”

The door shut behind him with a low thud; a cold breeze passed through his thinner work uniform, sending a shiver up his spine and made him desperately miss his jacket.  
 **You really aren’t acting like yourself, are you.**  
Scorpion hummed to himself, reluctantly making his way back to his quarters. Truthfully, he preferred sleeping in the med bay over the sparse room given to him when they relocated to the abandoned rig. Night after night spent cramped in a small tent with three others, on top of their supplies and own personal effects, was hard to adjust from, even if Hawk and Gorilla squabble constantly, or Alligator snored too loud, or Hawk tried a little too hard to sleep closer to him. The company was appreciated at the very least, despite it not being the company he craved. Back then, the nights he remembered vividly were spent in the back of the single Jeep or after a five mile walk to a hidden spot off the beach. Scorpion shook off the memories as he opened the door to his room-- a plain, dreary metal box with standard issue everything-- and immediately went to his small desk and dug through the contents in the single drawer. Retrieving what he needed from it, he took a long look at the photograph propped lovingly on the wall; it was the only family photograph he still had, depicting his older sister, who now was five years older than she was in the photo.  
 **I can at least thank God you’ll never know what I am now.**  
Subconsciously, Scorpion brought his fingertips to his lips then placed them on the photo, murmuring softly to himself.

The iron door shut loudly behind him as he quickly clamoured up the stairs towards the command platform. A few patrolling soldiers stopped him, having heard about the injuries he sustained while out on the mission; Scorpion kindly assured them that he was in good health without slowing his pace.  
“Man, I know I wouldn’t be moving like that if I got shot a day ago,” he heard one, named Snail, mutter to his fellow soldier.   
“What do you expect? Doc was trained by the Boss afterall,” the other, codenamed Piranha, replied, then scoffed at his subordinate’s surprised reaction, “Don’t be shocked! I told you this your first day, did you not listen?”  
Scorpion stifled a laugh as he waved to them, disappearing up the stairwell.  
 _Next he’s going to recount how I beat the Boss in CQC training. Never would let me tell anyone he let me win._

Rounding the corner towards the command platform, he half expected to see Miller leaning over the railing like he had a few nights prior, the long, silver pipe balanced gently in his hand. Much to his surprise, instead, leaning over the railing with a cigar between his fingers, was the Boss, staring out over Mother Base.  
 **Speak of the Devil himself.**  
Scorpion feigned an annoyed sigh, “After all the lectures I give you about smoking, and you still do it?”  
The Boss peered over his shoulder so that his good eye was staring down the medic; he barked out a laugh.  
“I’ll quit when I’m dead.”  
“Which will be much sooner if you don’t quit,” Scorpion chided, plucking the nearly burnt out cigar out of his hand, snuffing it out on the railing.  
Boss watched the ashen remains of his cigar disappear in the gust of wind.  
“Such a brat,” he muttered under his breath.  
“ _Für dich_ ,” the medic added sweetly, clearly reveling in the Boss’s annoyance.

Boss scoffed, turning his glance back to the overhead view of Motherbase; Scorpion joined him by his side.  
“You’re moving around pretty well for a guy who got shot,” he commented, relighting his extinguished cigar.  
“I’m a fast healer, and Hawk is a good surgeon,” the medic replied, side eyeing him as he took a drag.  
The commander scoffed again, “That’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say about him.”  
“Don’t sound so jealous.”  
“Ha! What is there to be jealous of?”   
“How vaguely romantic of you,” Scorpion chuckled, purposefully ignoring the disgusted glare from the Boss.  
“The fuck are you even doing up here anyway?”  
Scorpion feigned innocence as best as he could, “Miller asked me to meet with him.”  
Boss shot him a questionable glance, inhaling another drag from his cigar.  
“Well, well. Look at you two, being all cordial and shit,” he replied, smirking.

Without waiting for Scorpion to respond, the Boss snubbed out his cigar on the railing, tossing the remainder off the balcony of the platform before turning to walk away.  
“I’ll leave you to your little, meeting, then.”  
A nervous shiver ran down the medic’s spine.  
“Good talk, sir,” he answered, moving towards the door to Miller’s quarters.  
He stood there for a good minute or so, forcing to bring his hand up to knock on the door.  
“Oh, and one last thing.”  
The Boss’s voice startled him more than it should have; he didn’t even notice or sense him directly behind him until he spoke directly into his ear. In a fluid motion, he grabbed the medic’s shoulder back, turning him around to face him and pinned him to the door with a single hand. Out of habit, Scorpion stood frozen in place, unsure of what the Boss intended to do next. To his surprise, the hand that pinned him down rose to cradle his jaw, catching the medic’s lips with a kiss; he immediately relaxed into it, allowing the Boss to shove his tongue inside his mouth and didn’t give a damn who saw it. Scorpion muffled a grunt against the commander’s mouth, his tongue moving further down his throat then he was used to; even when he was usually rougher with him, the Boss never forced down this much, at least not with his tongue. The feeling of slight discomfort was replaced quickly with the feeling of something being lodged down his throat-- something small and cylindrical with a bitter taste-- and Scorpion only then realized what the Boss was doing. Reflectively, the medic swallowed whatever the Boss slipped him, just as the commander pulled away from the messy kiss with a devilish grin.  
He coughed for air, flashing a confused and angry glance at the Boss.  
“Have fun in there, kiddo.”

/ / /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao hi y'all I didn't forget, I'm just lazy af apparently. sorry this isn't a super long update, but the next part is all sex so /shrug

**Author's Note:**

> alright so like I was gonna wait to post this but I have zero self control and I can post this in parts because it's going to be long as fuck so ayyyyy


End file.
